


the pressure is getting to me (i'm still breathing)

by xslytherclawx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: Everyone knows the story: when Sirius Black was sixteen, he ran away to live with James Potter.That is, of course, not the whole story.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Regulus Black & Sirius Black
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020, xslytherclawx’s events collection





	the pressure is getting to me (i'm still breathing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandmaidenOfHorror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandmaidenOfHorror/gifts).



> Fucked up Black family dynamics are 100% my thing, so I was absolutely thrilled to do this.  
> I hope you like it as much as I do, HandmaidenOfHorror!

The day is nothing special, really. At least it starts out that way.

Neither Regulus nor Sirius are technically  _ allowed _ to see their friends over holidays – not unsupervised, at least. 

For Sirius, this amounts to the same result: he’s unable to see his friends from the time he steps off the Hogwarts Express in Kings Cross to when he boards it again. (Regulus is fairly certain, but cannot prove, that his brother sneaks out and sees his friends anyway. He hasn’t told Mother.)

For Regulus, this means he can only ever see  _ Evan, _ and even then only during boring visits in the parlour where their mothers drink bland tea and gossip about Mrs. Malfoy’s latest faux pas, and how good it is that someone finally seems willing to clean up all the scum in the Wizarding World, but could they perhaps extend that courtesy to those social rejects, as well?

Mother has a million excuses as to why, even as teenagers, her sons are not permitted to have unsupervised visits with their friends, but Sirius insists that it’s all really a matter of controlling them. Regulus isn’t sure. He can understand why Mother doesn’t want him to see Barty unsupervised, as Barty’s father is head of the DMLE and there is  _ plenty _ in Number 12, Grimmauld Place that could get the whole family arrested if some overeager bureaucrat were to stick his nose in.

He does not, however, understand why his mother is insistent upon preventing him from seeing Evan without adults present. Not only are they fourteen years old, but Evan is nearly family; his father and Aunt Druella, Narcissa and Bellatrix’s mother, are siblings.

He and Evan are on the Quidditch team together, but no matter. His mother’s rules are firm.

One would assume that being isolated from their friends would make Regulus and Sirius grow closer. If that was Mother’s intention, anyone could inform her that she failed. 

If you ask Regulus, he’ll gladly inform you that Sirius picks fights over nothing, and that all he’s trying to do is fulfil their family’s expectations of him.

If you ask Sirius, he’ll gladly inform you that Regulus is an idiot who lets his fear of disappointing their parents dictate his every action, and that all he’s trying to do is live his own life.

Needless to say, neither heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black is entirely happy with the situation.

As he can’t visit Barty or go to Diagon Alley with Evan to check out the newest racing brooms, Regulus is spending the afternoon doing homework.

It’s a terribly boring way to spend the day, really, but Regulus is never going to make prefect like Mother wants without putting in some work. Besides, it’s something to do to pass the time, and one of Mother’s many games in pitting her children against each other is to reward whomever finishes his summer homework first with a heretofore unrevealed prize.

Sirius might not like their family, but he is one of the most intensely competitive people Regulus knows, and they both know that their mother knows exactly what each of them want most; she will certainly use that to her advantage.

Regulus isn’t like Sirius; he’s not effortlessly gifted in academics. To be sure, he is smarter than most of his classmates, but that says more about the intelligence (or, rather, lack thereof) of his classmates than it does about Regulus himself. He can’t half-arse all his summer work in an hour and turn it in for full marks.

He’s long accepted that reality.

There are rooms in Number 12, Grimmauld Place that Regulus and Sirius are only allowed in with explicit permission, so to avoid trouble, Regulus does his homework in his bedroom. It comes with the added bonus that Sirius can’t bother him; he’s long placed so many jinxes on his door that he can’t really imagine what’ll happen to Sirius if he tries to intrude. He knows it can’t possibly be pleasant.

(Of course, Regulus knows better than to place any such jinxes that may accidentally target Mother or Father; he knows the punishment for such a lapse would be severe. He’s been  _ quite _ careful in his setting of jinxes to ensure they only affect his brother).

Regulus is about a third of the way done an Arithmancy set when Kreacher enters his room to announce that lunch is ready.

Kreacher is the one comfort Regulus has during the holidays, though he’d never admit as much if asked. (Who would ask? House Elves are  _ servants; _ proper Purebloods don’t fraternise with servants – they certainly do not view House Elves as friends. The idea is laughable. The absurdity is the only thing that protects him in this.)

Regulus thanks Kreacher with a smile and braces himself for lunch. Before he leaves his room, he ensures that he doesn’t have so much as a hair out of place.

He doesn’t know if Mother is at lunch. Father rarely is. Sirius often pilfers what he wishes from the kitchen and hoards it in his room until Kreacher is able to take it back.

Lunch is often a rather solitary affair with only Kreacher for company. Regulus honestly doesn’t mind.

Today, however, his entire family files into the dining room before Regulus can take his first bite.

Regulus has been a Black for fourteen years.

He has survived in this family this long. 

He knows how it works.

He knows enough to know that this isn’t incidental.

This means something.

He makes sure to sit perfectly straight, to use proper etiquette, to not let his mask slip for a  _ second. _

(He supposes he should technically feel less at ease in the Slytherin dungeons than at home, but he suspects not a single Slytherin feels that way).

He doesn’t ask any questions. He knows better. Mother will inform him of any news, while Father sits quietly by her side.

He doesn’t so much as glance at Sirius, but he can feel his tension. He doesn’t think Sirius has any better idea of what’s going on than he has himself.

Mother speaks after a few minutes. “I received word this morning that your cousin Narcissa is betrothed.”

Regulus doesn’t ask to whom; he assumes Narcissa will marry Lucius Malfoy, as there have been whispers among the Slytherins even after they’d both graduated of improper behaviour between the two of them.

“Of course, I’d hoped she’d see sense and agree to marry one of you…”

Mother shoots them both a look; Regulus placates her while his brother scowls.

“I would have gladly married Cissy, Mother. I will still, if you ask me to.”

Mother never softens, but she does seem pleased with his response. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe that will happen. Narcissa has insisted upon marrying Lucius Malfoy.”

This is a disgrace to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and Regulus says as much. If nothing else, he can say what his mother wishes to hear. After all, he knows well that the Malfoys are not a  _ true _ Pureblood family; that they have not disowned their own who have married Half-Bloods, as the Black have always been sure to do. The Malfoy family tree is unpruned, and their inclusion in the Sacred Twenty-Eight speaks more to their political power and wealth than it does their bloodline.

Sirius is silent. This, Regulus knows, is his protest. 

“I have spent all morning attempting to talk sense into your aunt and uncle, to no avail. I think the whole affair with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has addled their brains and robbed them of all sense.” She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is how Mother refers to Andromeda; Mother thinks it’s clever; a play on how the scum of the wizarding world refer to the Dark Lord. Regulus and Sirius both know better than to correct her. “I even offered both of you –”

“I’m not marrying my  _ cousin,” _ Sirius snarls.

Regulus tries not to hold his breath. He tries to look impassive. He doesn’t avert his gaze.

Sirius should know better. If Mother wants him to marry Cissy, he’ll have to marry Cissy. Blacks don’t get the luxury of choosing their spouses.

Regulus and Sirius’s own parents are second cousins, and Regulus thinks he and Sirius turned out fine. He knows Sirius disagrees.

Regulus makes sure to finish all of his lunch, even though his stomach is in knots. He can throw up in his room later. He can’t let Mother know he’s weak.

Softness is a fatal flaw in the House of Black. 

He’s known this as long as he can remember.

He’s about to ask to go back to his room when Mother calls his name. He turns his attention to her. “Yes, Mother?”

“I have  _ thought _ perhaps Mr. Rosier might be able to talk some sense into his sister. Kreacher has a parcel for you to take to their estate.”

Surely he can’t be hearing correctly. He knows asking might come at a price, but Mother has always been firm with her rules. “Will you be coming with me?”

“No,” Mother says sharply; Regulus knows he’s treading on dangerous ground. “I simply cannot bring myself to show my face after this shame to the family. I’ll need to wait until the scandal has passed. However, you  _ are _ still friends with Evan Rosier, are you not?”

“I am, Mother.”

“Good. Then you will visit him and drop the package with his mother as a favour to me. I’ve already written ahead.”

“As you wish, Mother.”

“Do get changed first; you cannot go out in public dressed like  _ that.” _

His robes are last season, but he didn’t think it mattered that morning when he went to get dressed for the day. 

“I will; of course.”

Mother nods. “You may be excused.”

He nods and hurries up to his room. He can’t believe it. He’s going to visit Evan at his  _ home! _ He doesn’t think Evan’s parents have such ridiculous rules about friends visiting (though, of course, Barty is  _ still _ not welcome in the Rosier home, but Regulus can’t fault them that; everyone in their circles knows that Mr. Rosier is one of the oldest and most dedicated followers of the Dark Lord).

Regulus picks his best robes for the occasion. Something that will show his status (superior to the Rosiers, obviously, but not so superior that he ought not to be fraternising with them), new and barely worn once from Twilfit and Tattings.

Kreacher looks him over and deems him appropriate before he goes to ask his mother’s approval. Mother deems his attire acceptable and sends him off in the Floo with the package.

He has been to the Rosier estate before, of course.

This is, however, his first time unsupervised.

Mrs. Rosier is waiting for him in the parlour when he arrives. Baby Felix, not quite a baby anymore, sits quietly on a settee with a toy dragon. Pureblood children are raised from birth to behave; Regulus doesn’t know what went wrong with Sirius.

He greets her politely, hands over the package, and is ushered away to Evan’s room.

He’s never been to Evan’s room before. They share a dormitory at Hogwarts, which should feel more intimate, but Regulus knows it’s not the same thing.

Excited as he is, he takes careful, measured steps to Evan’s room, which is, of course, in another wing of the manor. He finds Evan’s room easily enough, and Evan himself is lounging on his bed, reading their Transfiguration textbook.

“Is there anything more  _ dull _ than trying to do homework when it’s a perfect day for flying?” Evan asks in lieu of greeting.

Regulus opens his mouth to answer, but Evan puts his book aside and jumps up. “Lucky for me, now that you’re here, Father can’t protest if our  _ guest _ asks to go flying.”

Regulus is allowed to fly at home; it’s not a luxury, as far as his parents are concerned. He’s the Seeker for Slytherin House’s Quidditch team (at least as of last September, though he made Chaser in second year).

That said, Sirius refuses to play Quidditch on the principle that Mother wants them both to do so, so Regulus is often without anyone to practise  _ with. _ Quidditch for Sirius  _ is _ considered a luxury.

Naturally, he readily accepts Evan’s offer to go flying.

They walk together to the pitch on the grounds; it’s nothing so fancy as an official Quidditch pitch. The stands are few and unadorned, and while the hoops are regulation, they, too, are plain wood.

The broom shed is smaller than the one at Hogwarts, but the Rosiers keep their brooms updated. Evan grabs his own broom that he brings to school every term, and Regulus grabs a newer Nimbus.

They start by tossing a Quaffle around for an hour or so. Regulus might have joined the Quidditch team out of familial obligation, but he does genuinely enjoy the sport, and it’s great fun to play around with Evan.

Evan is every bit as competitive as Regulus himself is; it’s only too easy to get so involved that they end up physically fighting over the Quaffle.

Blacks, and Purebloods in general, aren’t overly fond of physical affection. Regulus is certain that his mother must have embraced him in some way as an infant, but he can’t quite remember it. He remembers one time, when he was six, Cissy hugged him after he presented her with a particularly fitting and lovely gift for Christmas. 

Sirius has certainly never hugged him. It’s not the done thing, and Sirius’s rebellion has never stretched as far as to show his own brother genuine affection.

So this – physically fighting with Evan over the Quaffle – is the closest he gets.

He eventually wrestles the Quaffle away from Evan and flies it in for a goal.

Once they’re so exhausted they can barely sit on a broom, they land by the pavilion, where one of the Rosier house elves serves them lemonade.

They’re both sweaty and exhausted, and Regulus desperately wants to shower, but he’s not going home. Not until he’s asked to. He’s not sure when he’ll have an opportunity like this again. 

He wonders, briefly, if this is what freedom feels like.

The pavilion is less private than the pitch, and there’s every chance that Mr. or Mrs. Rosier or even Felix might wander in and see them, but that doesn’t stop Evan from wrestling with him again.

Evan doesn’t pin him down without a fight, but when he succeeds, he has Regulus under him. Regulus can feel his heart pounding like it scarcely has before. Evan holds him down by his wrists and straddles his hips.

Regulus tells himself it’s just the adrenaline that’s making him feel this way.

Evan presses his body close to Regulus’s.

Regulus stops struggling. Struggling is part of the game; he knows it as well as Evan does. Right now, all Regulus can think about is how  _ close _ Evan is to him – this is certainly not something he should enjoy in any capacity. He should be feigning. He should overpower Evan and flip him over.

He doesn’t.

Evan’s face is close – too close – but then suddenly he’s gone and standing up and offering Regulus his hand.

Regulus takes it and allows himself half a second to shake whatever just overcame him off.

“I thought Seekers were meant to be quick,” Evan says.

* * *

When Regulus goes home just before dinner, his mother isn’t waiting for him in the parlour.

He’s not sure what to do with this newfound independence, so he goes up to his bedroom to finish his homework as he’s sure his mother expects.

He’ll wait until Kreacher comes to fetch him for dinner.

He only becomes concerned when he goes to turn his light on; surely dinnertime has passed if he needs to turn his light on in the middle of summer.

He calls for Kreacher. When he appears, Regulus doesn’t even need to ask him to know that something is wrong.

“What’s happened?” he asks.

“That no good Master Sirius has broken Mistress’s heart, he has,” Kreacher says.

Well, that’s nothing new. Kreacher is highly attuned to Mother’s moods, and he’s often distressed after Sirius has insulted Mother some way or another. Regulus only pointed this out to his brother once, in the naive hope that his brother be a bit more careful and think a bit about how his actions affect others, but it’s only had the opposite effect so far.

Regulus is well-versed in how to calm Kreacher down when he gets like this. Even though he knows Mother will hate it, Regulus kneels down to eye level with Kreacher and gently places a hand on his shoulder.

“Where’s Sirius now? I’ll speak some sense into him.”

Strictly speaking, Regulus does  _ not _ have a good track record in speaking sense into Sirius (by his or by any other measure), but the act of assuring Kreacher that he will has never yet failed to bolster the house elf’s mood.

Regulus is therefore surprised when Kreacher bursts out into fresh sobs. “Mistress is heartbroken! That filthy, bad, disgusting –”

“Kreacher,” Regulus says gently. “Where is Sirius? I order you to tell me.”

“Gone,” Kreacher says, which is about all Regulus can get out of him.

Regulus really doesn’t think much of it. Sirius and Mother argue constantly, and while Regulus knows for a fact that it has escalated to hexes and jinxes and the odd Muggle-style slap, he reasons that Sirius probably managed to distract Mother enough to sneak off to one of his friends’ houses, something he has done a few times before.

“I’m sure he’ll back by morning,” Regulus says. Then Mother will calm down and things will go back to normal. It isn’t pleasant, but it’s familiar. Perhaps familiar is good.

* * *

Sirius doesn’t come back by morning.

In fact, he doesn’t come back the next day at all. Or the next. Or the next.

After a week, Regulus notices that Sirius has been burned off the family tree. He can’t imagine Mother did so without much screaming.

Regulus sees Father more than he ever has before, and he remembers that he’s never liked him much. Father, though, is insistent that Regulus go over often to the Rosier estate.

If the Rosiers had a daughter, Regulus would be certain that this is some courtship ritual.

As it is, he thinks his parents just want him gone.

Three weeks after Sirius leaves, Regulus is sitting in one of the sitting rooms near Evan’s bedroom. Evan calls it  _ his _ sitting room, though he shares it with Felix. Regulus really doesn’t mind. The only thing that’s ever been his at home was his bedroom; he and Sirius have had to share the parlour with their parents for – well, forever.

Regulus and Evan are sitting on the same settee, and with no notice, Evan slides in close, closing the gap between them. 

Before Regulus can ask what’s going on, Evan says, “I found out why Sirius left.”

Regulus hasn’t really given it much thought. He’s assumed the entire time it was something small. Just one thing too much, and he finally had enough. Unlike Regulus, Sirius has friends whose parents won’t turn him in to his family – or turn his family in to the DMLE.

Still, he has to admit that he’s overcome with morbid curiosity. “Why?” he asks.

He still expects something mundane. Sirius failed one of his O.W.L.s, or he voiced his opinion again that Grandfather looks like a toad. (He’s right, but he should know better than to say it).

Evan says, “Your mother was livid that Cissy’s marrying a Malfoy – apparently being half Rosier means she can only marry  _ up,  _ but –”

“But there’s no marrying up for a Black,” Regulus says. At least not as far as his family is concerned. There are acceptable choices (of which the Malfoys are part), and even  _ preferable _ choices (of which the Malfoys are  _ not _ part), but as far as the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black is concerned, there’s no such thing as marrying up for them. They are descended from Phineas Nigellus – Regulus and Sirius twice over – and belong to one of the oldest and purest families in Britain.

The others have all but died out.

“But there is,” Evan says.

Regulus frowns; he doesn’t quite understand until that lunch comes rushing back to him. “Cissy was never going to marry  _ me, _ Evan. Nor would she marry Sirius. She’s quite set on marrying Lucius Malfoy.” Regulus can’t quite understand why; Lucius Malfoy is far from the most attractive  _ or _ charming man, but then again – as Purebloods, their marriage pool is a bit thin, and most of them have no say in choosing their spouse.

Perhaps this is Cissy’s rebellion: choosing the person she’ll marry.

Still, Regulus thinks he’d have picked someone like Evan over Lucius Malfoy if he were in Cissy’s place.

_ “Cissy _ is set on marrying Lucius, yes,” Evan agrees. “But Bella is as of yet unmarried.”

Regulus doesn’t need more than a second to connect the dots. “No.”

“Yes.”

Surely Mother would know better than to try to offer Sirius to Bella. Bella would accept; Regulus has no doubt about that. Bella takes family duty quite seriously. She loathes both of them, but she would do anything for the continuation of the family line and name.

Sirius, on the other hand… Sirius would rather die than marry Bellatrix.

Regulus doesn’t quite think he can blame him. Bellatrix is terrifying; Regulus has always given her a wide berth himself.

Regulus would fulfil his family duty. He would loathe every second of it, but he would do it. He wouldn’t run away. (Where could he even run away to?)

“You can’t be serious, Evan,” Regulus says when he manages to speak again.

“I am,” Evan says. “Father told me. Your mother arranged for Sirius to marry Bellartrix when he comes of age next November. Sirius refused, and – well, Father didn’t  _ say _ as much, but we can both safely assume there was a horrid argument that escalated into a proper fight, and Sirius packed his trunk and left. Now, I’ve never liked Sirius – you know that as well as I do – but I can hardly blame him for doing whatever he can to avoid a marriage to Bellatrix.”

“Do you think my mother will do the same with me?” Regulus asks.

He’ll accept if she does. He knows he will. He’ll have no other choice.

Evan shakes his head, and the rush of relief Regulus feels is undeniable. “Father said your mother’s got something else in store for you. No idea what that is, but I’m sure it’s  _ not _ marrying Bellatrix. When the time comes, your mother will probably set you up with some boring girl with a good bloodline and expect you to uphold the family line on your own.” He heaves a sigh. “At least I’ve still got Felix to carry on the family line with me; I can’t tell you how relieved I was when he was born a boy and I realised I no longer had to shoulder all those expectations on my own.”

He knows Evan’s words are pointed. They’re a warning. He’s going to have to shoulder the burden of being the only heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black all on his own. He’s not going to have Sirius’s mistakes to detract from his own anymore.

His parents are both going to watch him like a hawk, and any missteps will be dealt with in the usual manner.

There’s no longer any room for error.

He feels so sick he barely registers Evan’s fingertips brushing his shoulder.

* * *

Regulus spends the rest of summer waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It doesn’t.

In fact, he’s given much more freedom than ever before. He’s even permitted to meet Barty for ice cream in Diagon Alley, where Barty spends the entire hour complaining loudly about his father and not letting Regulus get a word in edgewise. 

He practises flying with Evan, wrestles with Evan, spends lazy afternoons reading and doing homework with Evan (really, Barty is always the better friend to revise and do work with; Evan is too restless to sit still for long periods, so their homework sessions often amount to Regulus doing work while Evan paces like a caged Hippogriff).

It isn’t until the night before his family sees him to Kings Cross that the reality of the situation sets in.

His father calls him into his study.

Father has never been one to mince words, and he doesn’t now. He tells Regulus that he expects nothing less than perfection: perfect marks, perfect Quidditch matches, not a single detention or so much as a deduction of House points.

He is, after all, now the sole heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. 

(Neither Narcissa nor Bellatrix count, though they’re every bit a Black as he is. Father doesn’t have to say that; the role of women in Pureblood society has been ingrained in all of them since birth. Regulus knows that, as far as their family is concerned, Narcissa and Bellatrix’s responsibility is to marry well and have good, obedient Pureblood children who will go on to further their family lines. There are fewer and fewer Purebloods every generation, and fewer Blacks still. This is not a satisfactory situation. They must all do their part to ameliorate it.)

Father also makes him aware that marriage is on the horizon. Not soon; he has only just turned fifteen a week ago, after all. He won’t be married until he is of age, no matter what Mother and Father want. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black is still, regrettably, subject to the law, and they all know that underage marriage is the sort of thing that would travel quickly through the grapevine.

Still, it never hurts to be on the lookout for a suitable spouse.

Regulus knows that his father means a wife.

Regulus doesn’t object. In fact, he voices his understanding and agreement with his father’s terms. Sirius has made things so difficult for the entire family; Regulus knows better.

He has to be perfect.

So he’ll be perfect.

Even if it kills him.

* * *

_ The fact of the matter is that Sirius didn’t have much time to think about the reality he was condemning his brother to. Why would he? His parents wanted to marry him to  _ Bellatrix, _ and he’s lost count of the times James has assured him that he can always come to him. _

_ Regulus was the farthest thing from his mind when he decided to leave. _

_ It wasn’t even so much a decision as it was a series of actions that led him, in a daze, to the Potters’ front door. _

_ The Potters might be Purebloods, and they’re not even technically blood traitors, but Sirius will never forget the revulsion they couldn’t hide when he told thim why he left. Why he needed to stay. _

_ He’s nearly of age, anyway. _

_ Besides, his parents have had a spare for fifteen years now. _

_ It took almost a full day for him to think about Regulus, and at first, he couldn’t bring himself to regret leaving him. He deserved it for being so soft and going along with all their nonsense. _

_ But then by leaving, was he condemning Regulus to a lifetime of doing whatever Mother and Father say? Was he the push his parents needed to convince Regulus to sign up to become a Death Eater? _

_ No. Sirius is sure they’d do that anyway. This is just the excuse they’ll use. _

_ Regulus never would have come. No matter what Sirius had done differently; Regulus has always taken their family seriously. _

_ He doesn’t even acknowledge him when they pass each other on the train. _

_ To be fair, Sirius doesn’t acknowledge Regulus, either. _

* * *

Regulus remains impassive when he sees Sirius again. Inside, a million different emotions threaten to bubble to the surface, but he’s a  _ Black, _ and that  _ means  _ something.

He can see the way Barty and Evan look at him, like they’re waiting for him to crack.

He refuses to crack.

He’s going to be  _ perfect. _

He has to be.

He acts as though Sirius is just some other annoying Gryffindor, and doesn’t remark upon him even after they blessedly find a compartment to themselves.

He’s quick to bring up a topic of conversation that will distract all of them: the Dark Lord and his latest actions.

This is Barty’s time to shine. His father doesn’t divulge much of his professional concerns at home, but Barty is both brilliant and sneaky, so he manages to glean information that even Regulus, whose cousin is a Death Eater, or Evan, who, in addition to also being Bellatrix’s cousin, lives with a father who is not only a Death Eater, but also in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, can’t claim knowledge of.

There’s a brief knock on the door while Barty is going on about how the DMLE has  _ no _ idea what they’re up against.

Without waiting for a response, Severus Snape enters the compartment.

Regulus has never liked Snape; in that, he and Evan are in complete agreement. Barty, however, seems to genuinely  _ like _ the Half-Blood upstart who follows that Mudblood around like a hurt kruppy.

(Regulus once told Snape that the Mudblood was never going to fuck him; Snape told him he sounded like his brother, that Sirius taunted him with that all the time. Regulus hexed him for the comparison.)

Snape starts talking to Barty like he  _ belongs _ there, and Regulus and Evan exchange exasperated looks.

It’s not Snape’s ideology they take issue with, or even the fact that he’s a fanatic. They share the same ideology, after all, and Barty is a fanatic. It’s not that Snape’s made an enemy of Sirius – even as early as first year, Regulus has made it clear that his brother’s opinion of people has  _ no _ bearing on  _ his _ opinion of those same people.

It’s not even that Snape doesn’t seem to bathe regularly, though that does irk them both. If that were the only issue, it would have been resolved long ago.

It’s that he acts like he’s one of them. 

He doesn’t know his place.

Half-Bloods are wizards in their own rights, to be sure, but they are  _ not _ as good as Purebloods, and that’s a simple fact that every Pureblood knows. To make matters worse, Snape isn’t even the better sort of Half-Blood; the sort whose families have been magical for generations on both sides. Such Half-Bloods exist (and contrary to popular belief, do not  _ somehow _ become Purebloods after centuries of intermarriage with other Half-Bloods and the odd Pureblood here and there), but Regulus knows for a fact that Snape has a Muggle father.

The fact that he despises his Muggle father doesn’t make the fact that he  _ has _ a Muggle father any better.

What’s more, he grew up in some dirty, crowded Northern city, surrounded on all sides by Muggles. His upbringing couldn’t have been more different from that of the boys whom he thinks himself better than.

_ That _ is the simple fact of the matter: Snape very obviously thinks he’s better than everyone he interacts with.

It’s one thing for Regulus to  _ know _ his own place (which is to say know that he  _ is, _ in fact, better than everyone outside of the family and several people within it); it’s another entirely for some Half-Blood upstart to act as though he has any claim to superiority because his mother was a  _ Prince. _

As if the Princes are anything special.

The conversation flows, as Regulus should have known it would, to Sirius.

Barty, for all his generally favourable view of Snape, turns cold immediately. Regulus feels a rush of something that might tentatively be called affection for his friend, but is more accurately simple satisfaction at properly displayed loyalty.

Evan turns the conversation to Quidditch, but Snape will not be deterred.

Regulus eventually has no choice but to hex him. He keeps his cool as he informs Snape that if he  _ ever _ so much as thinks to bring up that disgusting blood traitor’s name in his presence, there will be hell to pay.

Regulus is a Black. Snape is a Half-Blood.

He needs to know his place.

They both do.

* * *

_ Mary Macdonald innocently mentions offhand that she saw Regulus in the Prefect car. _

_ Sirius goes silent. _

_ He didn’t know his brother made prefect. _

_ He doesn’t  _ want _ to know anything about Regulus. _

_ That part of his life is over. _

* * *

He doesn’t know why he expects the dungeons to be the same as before, but he does. He expects to walk through, the unofficial prince of Slytherin (he is, after all, a Black, a prefect, and the Seeker for the House Quidditch team), to the same level of comfort and ease that he’s always found among other Slytherins.

He doesn’t find it.

He finds people whispering amongst themselves and falling silent when they notice him. 

They’re whispering about him.

About his Blood-Traitor brother.

Regulus is only fifteen, but he knows what needs to be done: he needs to make an example out of someone.

He’s already hexed Snape, who’s giving him a wide berth. He doesn’t think Snape will be stupid enough to try that in front of him any time soon.

But it’s only a matter of time, like this, until his authority is completely undermined.

In the end, a third-year ends up being the one stupid enough to make a comment.

No one dares reprimand Regulus.

No one talks about the Blood-Traitor in front of him again.

* * *

_ Gryffindor Tower feels like home. Sirius is eternally grateful to the Potters for taking him in, and while he feels more comfortable in their house than he ever did at Grimmauld Place, it’s not home. It’s never been home. _

_ Home has been, since he was eleven years old, Gryffindor Tower. _

_ Even the people in his house he  _ hates _ are more family to him than the fucking House of Black has ever been. _

_ Everyone seems to have heard the gist of what happened, but he hasn’t so much as heard a whisper about  _ why _ he left. Good. It’s better that way. _

_ He pretends as if everything is fine, and really, things are much better than they’ve been in a long time. His parents no longer have power over him. There’s nothing they can do to hurt him anymore. _

_ He’s never felt so free. _

* * *

Even Quidditch isn’t a release. It’s different between him and Evan when they have to share the changing room with two other boys. There’s no wrestling. There’s no touching.

Regulus knows he shouldn’t miss those things; they’re bad. He should be the proper pureblood son his parents need. 

He should be looking for a witch he wouldn’t mind marrying, as if his parents will give him any say in the matter.

Regulus catches the snitch in the first match of the season, and he doesn’t feel the usual rush of pride at a job well done, at crushing his competition.

He feels nothing.

He wonders if this is what the rest of his life will be like: putting everything he has into being perfect so that he doesn’t singlehandedly end the dynasty he was born into, and feeling nothing at his victories because he’s crushed by how much more he has to do.

He hopes not.

He thinks his hopes are drastically misplaced, though.

* * *

_ Hogwarts is not a very large school, so Sirius supposes it’s inevitable that he run into his brother eventually. He’s usually careful; he uses the Map to take the long way around, or borrow James’s cloak at a moment’s notice. _

_ He doesn’t always have access to the Map or the cloak, though, and on one such occasion, he nearly runs straight into his brother. _

_ He hasn’t spoken to Regulus since he left. _

_ He’s not about to break that habit now. _

_ Regulus could have left. Should have left. Sirius doesn’t have a monopoly on leaving. _

_ Hell, Andromeda had left, too. And Cissy didn’t turn around and shut up and do whatever the Family asked; for all his complaints about her, he’s fairly certain she’d have left if she weren’t allowed to marry Malfoy on her own. (Sirius, for one, can’t imagine picking  _ Lucius Malfoy _ as that particular hill to die on, but hey: maybe he has a fucking fantastic cock. It wouldn’t be the first time.) _

_ It’s not like there’s anything  _ waiting _ for Regulus with their family. Only over a thousand years of convoluted, fucked up family history. _

_ The smart thing – the brave thing – would be to tell them to go to hell. _

_ Sirius knows his brother – he thinks he does, anyway – too well to think he’d ever do that. _

_ Regulus will do as Mother asks because he’s terrified of what will happen if he says no. _

_ Fucking idiot. _

_ Sirius shoves him away and storms off. _

* * *

His encounter with Sirius puts him in a foul mood.

He’s meant to meet up with Barty to do homework, but he turns on his heel to go to the only place in this school he has ever truly known peace: the Quidditch pitch.

No one’s got the pitch booked for practise, but it’s not too late that he’ll get in trouble for flying a few laps.

He’s sweaty and exhausted by the time Evan finds him, and Regulus doesn’t even need to explain what happened.

Evan claps his shoulder and walks with him to the locker room, where Regulus gets a shower.

Evan politely averts his eyes, but he stays in the room and rattles on about some petty nonsense Regulus can’t bring himself to give a shit about. Listening to Evan talk is soothing, though. It helps distract him from the matter at hand.

He doesn’t know Evan does it.

To be sure, the expectations thrust upon Evan are not equal to those thrust upon Regulus, not by a long shot.

But Evan’s father absolutely expects him to join the Cause when he comes of age. He’s expected to marry a Pureblood witch from a good family and have heirs to his own family name.

He has a brother who can share his part of the burden, who wasn’t disowned.

Evan’s going to do what’s expected of him. Felix will, too. Two Rosier brothers to ensure their family line lives on.

Regulus is on his own.

His family line is on his own shoulders; no one else’s. Sirius abandoned him, too, when he left.

Barty will sell him out for the Cause, and Evan will never stray from his path, though Regulus thinks Evan’s friendship and affection is almost  _ genuine. _

He has no other choice, really.

He has to do what his family wants.

Sirius made sure of that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pressure Relief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719282) by [Goddess47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/pseuds/Goddess47)




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